Greg Jackson–“Poetry” (New Yorker, April 29, 2019)

I have been hearing about Toro Y Moi for quite some time and yet I never got a sense what he (they) were like. I also always assumed it was a duo (which apparently it is not).

Chaz Bear, who performs as Toro y Moi, is going to do what he feels. In preparation for his Tiny Desk concert, we were given two possible sound scenarios: aim to recreate the heavily electronic and lustrous aura that birthed his latest LP, Outer Peace or strip away the bells and whistles for an acoustic performance. The game-time decision was the latter and fans were treated to brand new iterations of these songs.

I had assumed that the music was dancey, so this acoustic rendition was a surprise. Reading that blurb makes more sense.

Toro y Moi’s discography conveys that same unpredictability and showcases his affinity for a wide span of genres. While largely known as an early pioneer of chillwave, Outer Peace is anything but. It’s hard-hitting, funky and directly to the point, as is this Tiny Desk concert.

It’s true. “Laws of the Universe” is as funky as anything (that bass!–Patrick Jeffords) with the stabs of piano (Tony Ferraro) really bring the melody home. The drums (Andy Woodward) snap and pop and bring the song to life. And I love the nod to LCD Soundsystem: “James Murphy is playing in My house.” (we should have all replied “my house”).

Stripping down such heavily produced songs could risk revealing weaknesses. In this case, the rhythms move just the same. Removing the Auto-Tune, synths and effects make way for some insightful songwriting that’s often hard to hear in the recorded version.

Like in “New House” which is “about wanting that gold.” It comes across as such a simple song with simple but relatable lyrics.

I want a brand new house
Something I can not buy, something I can afford
I ain’t even make it off the jetway now
Phone’s been on blast like all day (Ring)
Why you gotta do this? Try to test me now
Right when I touchdown got anxiety (Fuck)
Follow signs out of the terminal now
JFK is a different animal now
Damn baggage claim is like a warzone now
Glad I packed light clothes, I’m on my own

He has a simple, quite vocal delivery here in this mellow song.

“Freelance” returns that funk in the bass with more nice piano punctuation of melody. I love this verse:

No more shoes and socks, I only rock sandals
I can’t tell if I’m hip or getting old
I can’t hear you, maybe you could change your tone

For the final song they brought out a special guest (who I didn’t know).

With shaker in tow, Bear sat front and center at a stool to deliver four of my favorites from Outer Peace, including “Ordinary Pleasure,” with bongo assistance from Foots of Foot and Coles.

There is definitely a sameness to the set (are they all in the same chord?) His quiet delivery and the spare piano are all there. But each song has a moment that lets it stand out.

Like the funky bass and the insanely catchy chorus of “Ordinary Pleasure.” The bass and ooohs have a very disco feel to it as you dance along to “Maximize all the pleasure, even with all this weather, nothing can make it better, maximize all the pleasure.”

I have since listened to all four songs and I found the Tiny Desk versions to be more enjoyable each time–except for “Ordinary Pleasure” because the disco is ramped up on the album and it’s impossible not to shake to it.

[READ: April 29, 2019] “Poetry”

There is so much going on in this story, that it’s amazing it keeps its coherence.

James and Celeste are on vacation near a volcano. Possible rain suggested that Celeste would not enjoy the hike but, “so, frankly, did Celeste’s dislike of hikes.” But the volcano was there and so they had to climb it. Celeste could sit out out, of course, but “there was the looming question of marriage and children, after all and of the deeper compatibility of our interests.”

She had once told an acquaintance that he needed harrowing ordeals to prove he’s not on the road to death.

The hike was tough–straight up, it felt–and it did rain. He hoped they would both hold on to the idea that suffering underwrote a deeper pleasure. He promised it would be over soon and they would enjoy the taste of prune de Cythère. (Even though neither one knew what it actually was).

The story interrupts their journey to talk about Jacqueline, their temporary landlord. She was French with the air of a high-school cheerleader weighed down by adult worries. She had an enormous teenage son, Hugo who mostly seemed to wander around town wearing flip-flops.

She sent them texts throughout the day. They were fun to interpret: “You are not too cold or buggy at nights? I have screams.” They assumed she meant screens. Jacqueline also informed them that she was a poet. Which meant that all future texts were scrutinized as poems

I loved a pomegranate
From my heart.
Welcome home.

They were now sitting on a beach, under a fruit tree. He picked one up and offered, “prune de Cythère?” They each had a bite.

On the way home his mouth began to tingle. He assumed it was from sun and salt, but then it grew quite sharp. When he said something about it she immediately admitted she did too. They concluded it must be the fruit they ate, which was not in fact prune de Cythère.

They got home and Celeste took a shower (he expected her to be mad, but she was inscrutable) . While she was in the shower he looked up the fruit and the web said the fruit was from the manchineel, the world’s deadliest tree. Not the most poisonous–the deadliest. You were not even supposed to breathe the air around it. Symptoms were a burning sensation followed by severe symptoms in the throat and bowels.

He decided that the day would be saved if it he simply refused to accept the facts of the situation.

He didn’t tell her what he had found out but instead took her mind off of things by telling her how they were immortal–they were the only ones who were allowed to enter the volcano and survive.

Jacqueline send them another inscrutable text

Do not look for my heart, the monsters have eaten it.

He couldn’t figure it out but when he read it aloud Celeste told him it was Baudelaire.

As Celeste lay on the ground writhing she asked him why he made them climb the volcano. He gave an answer that even I find reprehensible: “There are certain things we have to do not to die of regret.” She didn’t buy it either.